All I Ever Knew Was Your Name [Nick Robinson]

FORTY EIGHT

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Dazed eyes and burning lungs. Aching head and heart. Wet cheeks and dry lips. Hours and hours of this go by; it's like a long lost friend. An evil, toxic friend that I just can't help myself from crawling back to with every possible chance I obtain.

It's been hours since my coffee meeting with Marissa— four, to be exact. And yet, the slightest mention of what life was like just a few months ago is enough to knock me down for four hours.

Being reminded of the endless loop of dread and remorse that was my life and everyone surrounding me while trying to stay sympathetic to a victim of this situation drains me dry.

Why couldn't she just leave me alone?

I lay in bed, staring at the wall blankly as I attempt to catch what's left of my hitched breath. I've played this game before, and I always find myself on the brink of loss.

How can this happen? Again and again? How can I keep going through this over and over? Will it ever end?

Gentle knocking on my door followed by it opening makes me close my eyes softly, not wanting to face whoever it may be. My back is to the wall to hide my endless spiraling. The thought of talking just pains me. I want to be alone.

"Mar?"

Owen.

"Mary, are you awake?" his calming voice only makes me want to cry. Everything does, nowadays.

I feel him come closer until he's beside me, then to my surprise, he is climbing into my bed beside me, reminding me of the days soon after Nick's disappearance where we relied on each other to make it through each minute of the day.

My eyes close tighter when I feel him exhaling behind me, his hand resting on my arm while squeezing there so gently to calm me. He pulls the blanket over him, and it reminds me of home— like my mother is downstairs laying in a hospital bed with a cup of melting ice chips in her cold, brittle fingers.

"You don't have to talk. Just listen, okay?" he nearly whispers. I can feel his breath on my back.

I nod.

"My dad told me about you and Marissa. I assume it brought up a lot of the traumatizing shit we went through, huh?"

Again, I nod. Only now, I'm feeling the familiar ache in my chest like I'm going to cry.

Why did she have to do this? Why did she have to uncover this trauma?

"They don't get it. My dad, Penny, Marissa, and even Nick. They don't understand what you and I went through. They couldn't possibly wrap their heads around this," his thumb strokes my arm.

Though it may not seem like it, it helps. Just a little.

"No one could fathom this. No matter how much any of them say it, they just— they don't know. But we do. And I'm glad I have someone to share this with because if I didn't, well— I don't even know that I'd be here right now," he laughs dryly.

"I know we don't talk about it anymore, and that's okay," his fingers touch the ends of my hair. I remember this feeling. "You and I cope how we want to cope. We don't owe anybody anything. Okay? We never have."

Slowly, I reach my hand across my body to touch his to show him that I'm here, and I'm listening. I always have, and I always will.

Any pain he's enduring, I'm more than happy to take it from him. I'd take all the pain away if I could, because I know this hurt. And I wouldn't wish it on anybody.